Chapter 8 - The Ghost Behind the Empire
Marcus felt the temperature in the room plummet. He looked around the hall in sheer horror, watching the most powerful men and women in the country stand in silence, bowing their heads toward his supposedly feeble father.
Celeste gasped, her hands shaking so violently she could barely keep her balance against the banquet table. The illusion of her supreme dominance had collapsed in less than sixty seconds.
"What... what is this?" Marcus stammered, his confidence completely shattered as he looked up at Silas. "Who are you?"
Silas did not answer him directly. An elderly man with silver hair and a sharp tailored suit—the founder of the largest private banking syndicate in Geneva—stepped forward from the crowd. He bowed his head slightly toward Silas, speaking in a low, respectful tone that carried across the quiet room.
"The acting tenure is concluded," the banker announced softly, his eyes cold as he cast a glance at Marcus. "The Sovereign has returned."
May you like
Marcus’s face drained of all color. The truth began to pierce through his shock like an ice pick. For twenty years, he had believed he was building the Moretti empire, managing its rackets, its corporate fronts, and its political bribes. He had believed Silas was merely a retired father who had ceded power out of weakness.
He had never realized that the entire global network didn't answer to the Moretti name—it answered to the bearer of the Black Signet.
